Lord Finnegan and Friends
by Ralobat
Summary: This is a collection of one shots, with Lord Finnegan and another BMT character. I will try to include as many as possible! All of my stories will include Lord Finnegan, so if you don't know who he is then check out my other stories! Rated to be safe.
1. A Halloween in Capia

_This is a challange fic from the BMT forums. Basically we had to write a non-canon pairing fic :D I decided to do two, one to post around Halloween, (Hence the theme for this fic :P) and the second for the original post date. That fic will be one of my SOK fics, so look out for that! _

_Please tell me what you think of the story, and what pairings you would like to see me do in the future! This one is Akkarin/Lord Finnegan ^_^  
_

_Happy Halloween!  
_

* * *

Akkarin entered the bright room. This was to be his home for the months to come, whilst he conducted his research into ancient magic. His gaze slid over the furniture. A few candles were positioned around the room on various tables, while comfortable chairs made a good space for entertaining guests. The floor was covered in an exquisitely designed carpet, so soft that when you stood upon it, you felt as if you were falling through the floor. Out of the sunny window, he could see the streets of Capia. People were constantly moving and chatting as they walked along, accompanied by the occasional carriage, each with a different symbol painted carefully onto the side. He smiled softly. No more guild obligations. No more family duties. He was free. The smile grew, and he gave a small laugh. Then he jumped, as a knock at the door broke the serene atmosphere. No matter where he travelled, there was always someone who knew him. He strode over to the door, and turned the handle.

"Hello!" A salesman was standing at the door, one hand on a trolley full of all sorts of strange objects and contraptions.

"I'm sorry, I don't really need anything thanks." Akkarin replied, slowly closing the door in the hope that the man would go away. He absolutely hated door-to-door salesmen.

"But I see you haven't got any Halloween decorations!" The man objected, holding out an odd orange thing, with what seemed to be some sort of face drawn on it. Akkarin stopped for a second. Whilst doing the research for his travels, he had come across the strange tradition of Halloween. From what he had heard, people go around dressed up as scarily as possible, and ask random strangers to give them stuff. Although, he had also heard that if you gave them anything horrid, they sometimes threw eggs at your house. Seeing his hesitation, the salesman launched into full pitch mode. Since Akkarin didn't really want his house to be covered in egg, and the idea of scaring people for fun intrigued him, he soon retreated back inside, with a handful of goodies, and a long list of things to buy in readiness for tonight. He put his equipment down on a nearby table, and started looking through it. His face grew into an impish grin. He was actually starting to look forward to it!

* * *

The smell from the store was overpowering as he stepped over the threshold. In front of him, stood a wall of orange... things. Some were oval, some were round, some were weirder then he had ever seen a fruity, vegetable like thing look like before. He strolled up to them to try and catch snippets of conversation from the other customers. At least then, when he tried to purchase one of the things he wouldn't look like a complete idiot.

"What are you going to put on it?" One woman asked her small daughter.

"I'm going to have triangle eyes, a little square nose, and a jagged mouth!" She replied, smiling with pure delight. Akkarin gave a sigh. This wasn't helping at all.

"Can I help you at all sir?" One of the assistants asked him. He knew that there was nothing else for it.

"Yes, I've just come to Capia, and I'm not entirely sure about what to do with pumpkins." There, he'd said it.

"Well sir, first choose a pumpkin. The bigger ones take more time to clean out, but they're easier to carve, and vice versa for the small ones." He could see that Akkarin hadn't got a clue as to what was going on. "Traditionally pumpkins are made to look scary by carving faces in them. You take off the top, scoop out the insides, and then cut out bits to make your face. Then you put candles in the bottom, light them, and put it outside for everyone to see!" The man smiled. "Would you like to see some ones that we made earlier?" Akkarin just nodded, and walked over. The designs seemed to be simple enough, and the scooping would be no problem with a bit of magic...

"I'd like to take these two please." Akkarin used magic to pick up the two biggest pumpkins in the room. The assistant's eyes widened.

"Why certainly sir, let me help you get them in your carriage..."

* * *

Akkarin wiped a slimy hand over his forehead, and looked again at the huge pile of stringy orange webbing, full of disgusting seeds that were like wet soap to try and keep a hold of. He looked inside the cavernous hole he had created, and groaned. There was still another pumpkin and a half left to go. He had been at it for at least an hour, his hands hurt, the whole house stank, and he was on his fifth spoon. He had tried to use magic, in the beginning, but he nearly gouged a big hole in the side when he first tried, so he had resorted to using his power only to lift out the gunk once it had been loosed from its holdings on the vegetable's flesh. Then he heard a knocking sound, before running feet and giggling. He sighed, then wiped his hands and face on a cloth.

Reaching the door, he opened it slightly. As he'd expected, there was no one there, and a letter lay on the ground. On the front, it said...

"New person!" Akkarin exclaimed, he once again cast around for the joker, but saw nothing to help him. He closed the door as he headed inside, before ripping open the letter.

_Dear the new guy living next door to me_

_I am very, very good at making my house scary for Halloween. I heard that you are trying to make yours look scary too. I am here to tell you that you can't win. If you do, I'll give you a prize! But you will never beat me! Mwa ha ha!_

_- LF_

_P.S. Get off the table_

Akkarin set down the letter cautiously, and wondered at the madness of his neighbour. But it was in his nature not to be outdone. With a new determination, he strode into the kitchen, and set to work.

Half an hour later, he dumped the orange stuff in the bin, and started sketching faces onto the skin of his vegetables. When he was satisfied, he quickly and magically cut out the shapes he had drawn, set a few candles into the bottom, and guided them outside. Immediately he spotted his mad neighbours house. It was covered with a huge cloth! Obviously he wanted to hide his secrets for a while longer.

Akkarin chuckled, and went inside to fetch his other decorations. When he came back outside, he heard an odd noise. He turned towards its source.

"Why, hello my dear rival!" The voice was coming from next door; but something wasn't right... "I trust you had my letter?" Akkarin nodded. "Well?" The voice came again, but with a hint of frustration.

"I nodded!" Akkarin protested.

"And you really think that I can see you through this?" The voice had lost its edge, and was rather exasperated. "Why did you nod?" Akkarin chose to ignore that question. The man (he assumed it was a man) sighed. "Well anyway," He continued, "You know of our arrangement."

"Yes," Akkarin replied.

"Well, whoever's house makes people either cross the road to avoid it, or run away the most, wins the prize, okay?" He said, having regained his composure slightly. Akkarin still couldn't work out what was troubling him.

"Okay, but this year, you won't win!" Akkarin stated defiantly.

"They all say that..." The man replied, and Akkarin heard the click of a door shutting. Suddenly, Akkarin realised. The man's voice had been coming from the floor! He chuckled quietly at the images that this revelation conjured up before he turned, and made a start on the witch.

* * *

Akkarin was pacing his living room, waiting for the right moment. Looking out of the window, he saw what a difference one celebration can make. Nearly every house was decorated with skeletons, spiders and pumpkins galore. He, not wanting his neighbour to see his work, had covered everything with a cloth. Now, all that was left to do was wait for it to get dark enough, light the candles, and unveil his creation. Then he noticed the old woman across the road lighting the candles in her pumpkin. He rubbed his hands together, and took a deep breath.

"It is time..." He muttered, and strode outside. He willed his mind to find the candles, and lit them one by one, before he whipped off the covers, and threw them inside. He beamed at his efforts. The house truly looked terrifying. Realistic looking heads dripped with fake blood, and spiders contained by invisible barriers, scuttled through the bones of skeletons. He was smiling, up until the point when he saw the mysterious Mr LF's house.

Two screaming men in individual cages dangled from posts in the wall. Fire surrounded the house, but the whole building seamed darker than the rest of the world, as if some black fog had been drawn towards it. Eerie noises came from everywhere, and Akkarin felt himself backing away, not wanting to be near the building that seemed so other worldly. Then a clap of thunder came, at the same time as the sky was lit brilliantly by lightning, illuminating the figure of his neighbour. His hair was set into spikes that were gelled upwards down the middle of his head of an almost luminescent green. He wore a jumper, on which was written the phrase, "Go Team Finnegan!" However, the strangest thing about him by far, was the fact that he was standing on his head. The man cart wheeled over to him.

"So, I think I've won!" The man told him, a triumphant grin on his face. Akkarin gulped.

"I don't even know your name!" Akkarin stood up taller in defiance.

"Lord Finnegan." The man replied, going to hold out his hand then obviously thinking better of it.

"Lord Akkarin" He coughed out, suppressing his laughter at the absurdity of the situation. "How did you decide on the decorations for your house?"

"Decorations?" Lord Finnegan asked, obviously confused. "This is how my house normally looks!" Akkarin blinked a few times in disbelief.

"Can you explain the men in cages?" He asked, trying to regain his composure.

"They committed serious crimes against tables!" Lord Finnegan cried. Akkarin thought it best not to push the issue, never mind being egged, he didn't want to be in a cage.

"The fire?" Akkarin asked, wondering how this could work.

"I get cold." Lord Finnegan replied, shrugging, as if this was normal.

"The general darkness?"

"I like the dark!"

"The eerie noises?" Akkarin was getting quite frustrated with the Magician for having such good excuses.

"Oh, that must be my new pet. She's a mountain lion, but sweet as a kitten really!" He smiled.

"Why did you not do anything special to your house for Halloween?" Akkarin asked. Lord Finnegan shrugged.

"I just like winning, and everyone's so scared of my house anyway..." He trailed off, grinning like a madman.

"Well," Akkarin had to fight to stop himself bursting out into fits of laughter. "I think you win this one!" He then ran inside, before he completely lost his self-control.

"Get off the table!" He heard Lord Finnegan cry after him, just before he collapsed on the floor, howling with laughter.


	2. Dashing through the snow

_Another challenge! This time it's Xmas themed, and LF is once again on the prowl for innocent BMT characters to confuse and bewilder. This time, it's Lord Finnegan/Dorrien_

_Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!_

* * *

Dorrien hugged his arms around his waist in an attempt to get warm, the freezing snowflakes that obscured his vision shrinking rapidly as they encountered the warm air he had cocooned himself within. His breath went undetected for a while after leaving his lungs before curling away in elegant misty spirals upon hitting the frosty winter air.

Dorrien thought wistfully of his old room, the fire that his servant would make for him that greeted him home after long night shifts in the Healer's quarters. He thought of Rothen, his kind face frowning with worry as he asked him to prolong leaving for a few days to avoid the snow storm, knowing that he would leave anyway, stubborn as he was. Then Dorrien shook his head and urged his horse forwards. It was nearly nightfall, and this was the last leg of his journey. It would take longer to turn back and try to find somewhere to stay, so he might as well keep pushing forwards, he should see the village soon. He gave a snort of irony at the thought. He could barely see the horse's nose through this snow, so he'd be lucky if his eyes were the first thing to pick out his new home! Dorrien settled into the saddle. He still had an hour or two's travel ahead of him.

* * *

A noise sounded somewhere in the distance, shifting Dorrien into full consciousness. He blinked a few times, and rubbed his eyes, before peering into the distance, trying to ascertain what caused the sound. The raging snow had calmed slightly, and he was able to make out what seemed to be an animal of some sort. The noise came again, and now that he thought about it, it did sound like some sort of livestock...

Suddenly, another animal cried close behind his horse, causing it to rear up. Dorrien grabbed desperately for the reins that had slipped from his grasp, and was practically thrown into the horse's neck when it righted itself. Then it powered forwards, bolting away from the animal, but Dorrien's hold was slipping. He snatched frantically at the mane flying into his face, missed, and flew straight off the back of the mare. Winded, he gasped for breath, the shock of the snow in his face not helping his predicament.

He rolled onto his back, and opened his eyes. A reber looked back. It snorted in his face. Dorrien coughed violently as the creature's foul breath washed over his face. He pushed it away, and jumped up, hoping – but not expecting – to see his mare. He was right. There was no sign of her except for the deep set of hoof prints being filled in fast by the snow. He set off running. If he didn't find his horse soon, the poor thing would probably die of cold, or hopefully be found and cared for in a village, but he would be stranded until he wandered into civilisation. Neither were prospects he would wish to come to fruition. Then he heard voices. Hoping that they had found his horse, he ran towards them, seeing two figures in the distance. One of them spotted him, and cried out.

"Have you found my horse?" He called back. Then he saw her, being led by one of the men. He sighed with relief.

"Yes, are you alright? It's a bit cold to be running around outside!" One of them asked, as Dorrien came into speaking distance. Dorrien nodded.

"My horse spooked at one of the reber, I'm supposed to be on my way to Sarin, do you know how far away it is from here?" The man laughed.

"You're practically there! Come on, we'll take you..." He paused, and looked down at Dorrien's robes. He elbowed his companion before quickly bowing. Dorrien tried to get him to stop, his face glowing red with embarrassment despite the cold, while the man holding his horse looked at his friend, looked at Dorrien, gasped, and practically fell over in his hasty attempt at a bow.

"Honestly you don't have to bow, I'm here to take over from the existing healer." He smiled ruefully. "Not a great start I know!" The two men laughed.

"I'm sure you'll do great! Do you know Lord Finnegan?" One asked, as they made their way back to the village.

"No, he came up here before I graduated, I never knew him. What's he like?" Dorrien asked, anxious to know about who he would be taking over.

"A bit eccentric, but once you get to know him he's very nice. We all thought he was round the twist at first!" The man holding the horse laughed.

"Most of us still do!" The other one chuckled. "I'm Sagen by the way," He held out his hand, "And this is Fugil." Dorrien smiled and shook his hand.

"I'm Lord Dorrien, nice to meet you both." He caught sight of a house, and heard the sound of laughter.

"They've started without you!" Fugil cried, and shook his head, chuckling. "Only to be expected I suppose!" Sagen rolled his eyes.

"They're probably just setting it up!" He said, exasperatedly. Fugil's eyes widened as he realised. Sagen laughed, but Dorrien just looked around, confused.

"What's going on?" He asked them. Sagen tapped his nose mysteriously.

"You'll see!" He told him. Fugil put his hand over his mouth to conceal his laughter. Dorrien chuckled.

"I should have expected something like this..." He muttered good-naturedly. They all laughed, and entered an old fashioned stable. Fugil put the horse in an empty stall.

"Come on, we'll show you what's going on!" Sagen chuckled, and motioned for Dorrien to follow him back out.

"I'll just get her settled then I'll follow you there!" Fugil smiled, "See you later!" Dorrien nodded his head, and hurried to catch up with Sagen. They approached the building the two farmers had been commenting on earlier. Laughter and scraping noises came from within. Sagen stopped, and put his hand on Dorrien's chest, telling him to do the same.

"I'll just tell them you're here, wait a moment!" He smiled, and slipped inside through the heavy door of what appeared to be some sort of hall, without letting the door swing wide enough inwards for him to make out what was going on. A minute passed, and Sagen reappeared. "Come on in!" He motioned for Dorrien to go first. Tentatively, he heaved open the door to its fullest extent. He wandered in to an apparently empty room, apart from a long table down the centre of the huge room, and a child with a hand over her eyes. He looked up, and took in the height of the building. A few birds sat on one of the beams, watching him.

BANG! Something popped in his ear, followed by numerous others. He ducked, and then opened his eyes when he realised that the popping had subsided, and had been replaced by the sound of laughter. He opened his eyes, to see what must have been the entire village standing around covered in the contents of party poppers. He stood upright, and smiled at his own stupidity, plucking a wad of colourful paper ribbons from his hair. An odd man in green robes with green hair fashioned into spikes cart wheeled into view.

"Welcome Lord Dorrien! I am Lord Finnegan, the previous healer of this village." He held out a hand. Dorrien leaned down, and awkwardly shook his hand, the bright spikes on Lord Finnegan's head brushing the floor.

"Err... thank you!" He smiled, looking around the room, and feeling rather self-conscious when he realised that everyone was staring at him.

"We thought a welcome party would be a nice way to start your life here, seeing as you'll probably be staying a while!" Sagen laughed heartily. "Let's get you some wine; you must be cold in those robes!"

"They are brutal at this time of year..." Lord Finnegan muttered, rolling off to continue covering the tables in party hats. Dorrien walked over to where Sagen was talking to two other men, but stopped in his tracks when he saw other people heaving boxes into the room, and placing cushions around them. He went up to the men.

"Why... why are they getting out boxes?" He asked, a frown creasing his forehead. They all laughed, but Dorrien thought he could detect a hint of nervousness.

"Where else are we going to eat?" One of the men gave an unconvincing smile. "You surely don't mean the tables?" Dorrien eyed the men with suspicion. "Don't you all have that custom down at the guild? Don't you all believe that you should treat tables with respect?" He said that last sentence with a sense of desperate hope in his voice.

"It's not really something I have heard of before I'm afraid, is this a village custom?" He asked, worried about the man's sanity.

"No no, Lord Finnegan is a firm believer in the well being and fair treatment of tables, he brought it to us..." He looked around, and clocked the healer. "Please, can we use our tables when he goes? It's so difficult to find things to put stuff on that aren't tables..." He whispered, staring fervently into Dorrien's eyes.

"Of course you can! I'd never heard of anything like that before!" He smiled, and all the men breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" The man grabbed his hand in gratitude, before running off to tell his family the news. The other man did the same. Sagen nodded his head.

"I knew you were going to be good for this village!" He smiled, and too headed off. Then a bell rang at the end of the hall.

"Dinner!" Someone called, and everyone flocked to the boxes, where a few people were handing out food. Dorrien went over to the door that appeared to lead to the kitchen, and started to help with handing out plates and cutlery.

* * *

Dorrien looked up as a band started playing a jaunty tune on a raised platform in the corner. A jolly, busty woman called Carel got up, and offered him her hand.

"Dance with me!" She cried, and dragged him onto what appeared to be a makeshift dance floor. Dorrien laughed, and started to dance with her, merging with the steadily growing crowd that twirled and laughed and moved with the beat of the music. He swapped partners, and was slowly passed around all the women in the village, as well as a few of the children. One woman was eyeing him in a very disturbing manner, and he soon moved on.

He noticed a circle forming, where Lord Finnegan had started waltzing around with a fairly long table. Dorrien looked back to the little girl he had been dancing, who must have been around eleven years old. She smiled at him.

"Lord Finnegan's mad, everyone says so!" She giggled sweetly. Dorrien leaned down, and whispered confidentially to her.

"I think you're right!" He laughed, and swung her around in a circle, with her squealing and giggling madly.


	3. Love Triangle

_Okay so another fic! This time it's a Valentines's day/Threesome fic, but it's sadder then what I usually do, so I hope you enjoy it :D_

_The next Challenge is Bedroom/Magic, so you might even have that before the end of the week! :P  
_

* * *

Velend let his eyes wander over the scene outside his window. The shops and stalls had all been painted various shades of pink, ranging from a gentle baby pink to a garish colour that seemed to burn his eyes. Balloons in the shape of hearts swayed in the soft breeze, tied down securely with pink strings to stop them disappearing into the late winter sky. He saw a woman go up to one of the stalls selling beautiful red roses and exquisite boxes of chocolates tied up with ribbons. A tear rolled slowly down his cheek. For the past few days all he had seen were lovey-dovey couples, holding hands, kissing. All of his friends had someone; even Tayend of Tremmelin now had Ambassador Dannyl.

"The man I love doesn't even know I exist," Velend thought, and looked over at the envelope resting on a box of chocolates, "But that won't stop me trying." He picked up the letter, and looked at it for a few silent moments, before his other hand scooped up the heart shaped box and he made his way out, a hopeful smile playing across his mouth.

* * *

Lord Finnegan looked up, blinking at the sudden light that hit his face. He looked around. He was sitting at his desk (or rather, doing a shoulder stand on the seat), the light was coming from the morning sun, which had just risen high enough to bypass his early morning sun shield, that stopped him from being woken up at 5 o'clock every morning. The screens that other Magicians used were covered in those stupid Guild Incals. His family didn't believe in Incals. Looking down, he remembered why he was at his desk. Last night, he had been writing a flirtatious letter to the one he had been admiring for years, but had only now had the courage to do anything about that. Quickly, he finished the letter, signed it with the traditionally ambiguous question mark, and sealed it in the envelope with a handful of glitter and sequins. Cart wheeling outside, he found a messenger boy.

"I want you to post this letter, and make sure that it arrives with 12 thornless red roses." He held out the letter and a few coins to the boy, who reached down to take them, his eyebrows raised in obvious respect at Lord Finnegan's ability to support his whole weight with one hand. "Get off the tables!" Lord Finnegan cried suddenly, making the boy jump, and then watch him, confused, as 7 he made his way back inside.

* * *

Velend's eyes shot open as he realised the date. It was the 14th of February. Then came the familiar sound of letters dropping to the floor. He shot out of bed, and grabbed the pile of envelopes, running back into his bedroom to sort through them. The first few were just regular letters, but then he came to the third. It was a pinkish-red colour, and coming off it was a rich, musky scent. He opened it carefully, his hands trembling in anticipation. Slowly, he slid the letter out of its casement, and marvelled at the metallic paper, in a similar colour to that of the envelope. It was written in neat, flowing handwriting, with what looked like expensive black ink. He started to read.

_Dearest Velend,_

_My love for you has burnt bright and strong for many years now, but I have never had the courage to write to you. You are the man of my dreams, and every time I see you, my only wish is for us to be together. Meet me at the restaurant on the corner of your street at 8pm tonight, so that we may finally be where we are supposed to be, with one another. I will see you with my rose in hand tonight. Till then, my dearest Velend!_

_?_

Velend lay the letter down on his crossed legs. His heart beat with a new warmth, a new joy. Maybe they did know he existed after all. He looked down at his hands, resting in his lap, and noticed that they were shimmering. He smiled, realising that that had come from the letter. Yes, to put in that much effort they certainly did.

* * *

Lord Finnegan rolled slowly up the street, anxious as to what he would do when he got to the cafe. The moment he had been dreaming about for so long, could he make this work? He took a deep breath. Only one way to find out. The little bell above the door rang as he carefully pushed his way inside. A few people turned around to stare at him, asking their neighbours who he was.

He let his eyes stray over the exquisite tables, all adorned with pink, almost fluffy looking double roses, in red-tinted glass vases, sitting atop red lace tablecloths. All except one. Peering through the warm glow of the candles, his eyes rested upon the royal table. Reserved for the royal families and their most trusted officials, she was sitting in the corner on a raised platform surrounded by soft, expensive chairs. Upon it, sat a vase of twelve thornless red roses. Lord Finnegan smiled a bright, perfect toothed smile, his watery eyes shining in the candlelight.

"You got my letter?" He breathed, tentatively reaching out a hand towards her.

"Lord Finnegan!" Velend cried with relief. "You came!" He ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Lord Finnegan squirmed in his grasp, not at all sure what was happening.

"Err..." He grimaced, and pushed Velend's shoulder so he lost his balance and hit the ground. "Why... what's with the hug!" He spluttered, doing a back flip away from him. Velend looked at him from the floor, betrayed.

"You told me to meet you here... in your letter... You said "With my rose in hand". You're holding it now!" He pointed to Lord Finnegan's hand, in which was a deep purple rose. He looked down.

"I didn't send anything to you though... I brought it for my one true love, Bel Bellbell. He strode up to her with love in his eyes, and rested the rose in the vase. Suddenly though, it tipped over, spilling its contents over the lace tablecloth. Lord Finnegan stared at her in amazement, his breath hitching in his throat and the tears of bewilderment starting to form in his eyes. "But... you have my roses..."

Velend looked up in amazement, and stared at the scene with new eyes. He pointed at the table.

"You sent me the letter? Not him?" He walked slowly up to her, and placed his hand gently on the edge of her polished surface. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be crude, but... my... _inclinations_ aren't exactly towards tables, even fine ones such as yourself, or even... women for that matter." He blinked regretfully at her. "I'm sorry, I truly am, this was all a misunderstanding." The purple rose rolled to his feet. "I understand, I won't stay a moment longer." He walked out of the restaurant, head down.

Lord Finnegan stared after him as he left, with fiery determination and hatred. He looked back at his beloved. She was gone.

"NO!" He wailed, and went after Velend. He slammed the door open, and cart wheeled as fast as he could down the street, before turning sharply at a dingy alleyway. He saw Velend, and turned feral. "How could you?" He screamed, the sobs coming think and fast. "She never did anything to you, and you just dumped her! I would have taken care of her, but I can't now! She's gone, and it's your fault!" He collapsed to his knees, unable to support himself anymore, and closed his eyes.

* * *

Velend turned at Lord Finnegan's anguished cry. He wanted to comfort him, and those arms were so muscular with all that cart wheeling... He knelt down next to the broken man, and brought him up into embrace.

"It'll be okay, it'll all be okay," He consoled him, rubbing his hand up and down his back and rocking gently. "We'll find her, don't worry, she can't have gone far!"

Suddenly Lord Finnegan gasped.

"No! This isn't what it looks like!" He cried, and got to his hands. Velend wheeled round, only to see Bel Bellbell, standing not five feet away from them, a white cape draped over her. He looked to Lord Finnegan's stricken face. "I love you!" He cried, the tears rolling down his cheeks merging with one another making his whole face shine. "Wait! We can work it out! You don't need to do this! Don't end your beautiful life! I can make you happy if only you'd put down the gun!" Velend froze at the mention of a gun. Then he heard a shot. He turned around in time to see her falling, a smoking gun falling with her and a scorched, blackened hole right in her centre. Lord Finnegan draped himself over her body, weeping for her. All Velend could do was hold him. Then something changed. "Someone get an ambulance!" Lord Finnegan cried. "She's still alive!"

* * *

A week later, Velend went to visit Bel Bellbell in hospital. She was lying in a bed, with a healer polishing her top. Lord Finnegan stood beside her, his hand resting by her leg, smiling. He came into hearing range just as the healer finished.

"Well, from now on you'll need to be polished every day," He patted her, "But you survived, that's the important thing."

"We can never thank you enough doctor!" Lord Finnegan vigorously shook the healer's hand once he had bent down. Velend smiled as he approached the couple.

"Everything's worked out for you too then?" He asked. Lord Finnegan looked lovingly at Bel Bellbell.

"Yes, everything is perfect now, thank you." He smiled at her, then turned to Velend. "Get off the tables!" Velend smiled, but inside he was crying. The one he loved... he could never have. That was the curse of Valentine's Day.


End file.
